Hermit’s Kingdom: Excerpts
Author Alan Scott Macrae
“The lack is what is beautiful.”
Hurricane Nova
Here it is
the remains of a Mexican hurricane
lightning and thunder
all the wind one could ask for
here where the wind is usually dry and cool or hot depending on the season
Nora is her name
she has been traveling up
the coast of Mexico for a week
getting weaker and weaker
from troubling all those oceanside resorts
sucking up margaritas and dancing with the surf Nora swept over Arizona
wringing out the sea as she went on
to New Mexico where she washed out
dirt roads with flash floods
and leaked through roofs of old adobes
all the way up to Taos
I have been waiting for her
hoping to spend the night together
sparking and growling
getting wet if we want to
out under the ceiling of cloud
pulled from the swirling equatorial latitudes
~~~
I purchased an anvil to make stronger poems
Snow covers everything this morning
cold and beautiful like the bodies of young poets
caught out in the storm unvaccinated
symptoms of a cold or flu at first
stubborn cough
the chills of fever
shortness of breath
recovery in a week
but the parents aren’t so lucky
In place of Eden I give you sunrise
I give you a desert that doesn’t complain
hardy companions like the tarantula
the coyote, the jack rabbit, and the raven
those sturdy denizens
whose range you stumble over
the burly bighorn sheep, the owl and eagle
your clear breath as you take each step
further into the new weather
on this ancient plateau
the high lonesome
breath that inhales the thin dry colors
of sagebrush and cactus blossom after rain
yes, it does rain in the desert
furiously
without the care and nurturing of Eden
whose grace you took for granted
and whose revenge is chaos
signals conveying the message all is lost
pass overhead like passenger jets
but here in the desert
that is the lingua franca—
loss is the currency of this place
Age quietly assumes its role
among your most valuable possessions
there beside photos of your youth and pride
your wealth and substance
is silence
the great seducer
a balm for your anguish
layering the morning in tranquility
your only companion
a turgid dream spawning memories
and the dog’s yipping accompaniment
in her sleep
You own forty acres of desert
in place of Eden and it owns you
I have asked lightning to strike me
~~~
